


When the World Became Big.

by scifitwee



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Body Dysphoria, Drug Use, Existential Angst, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifitwee/pseuds/scifitwee
Summary: “Your mom.”They’re friends, don’t worry. Ethan squints at Mark, smirking at Mark’s sudden groan of annoyance. He sits next to Ethan and plays with the red bull can. He keeps an eye on the veins in Mark’s hands and how they pop in a way that makes Ethan wish he was a nurse taking blood right now.“Faggot.”Mark retorts, making Ethan stiffen. Reminding him why he shouldn’t be friends with straight guys.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	When the World Became Big.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're the boys, please don't read this. thxxxx
> 
> i hope you enjoy <3

Ethan downs the rest of his red bull and swallows three Advil's. He’s in pain, a headache that reaches its fingers into his tender eyes and stabs, as normal. He’s in a college classroom surrounded by people who are having fun, and he is in pain. Per usual. Black hoodie engulfing his body, showing that he has no figure. No one would be able to tell that his ribs poke out, they could believe he had an hourglass figure. A hole where his stomach should be, a sign yelling ‘do not enter’. A lucky man takes off the void around his shoulders, pulls the fabric over his head, just to see Ethan doesn’t own a torso.

One could dream.

“What’re you thinking about, gay boy?”  
Mark,- Mark is funny. Loud, aggressive, a bit cunty, but overall funny. He’s in a hoodie too, but it’s paired with jeans, not leggings. A bright white, sitting next to Ethan, who is shivering from knives stabbing into his eyes. Mark’s red hair was faded, but still too bright for Ethan’s eyes.

“Your mom.”  
They’re friends, don’t worry. Ethan squints at Mark, smirking at Mark’s sudden groan of annoyance. He sits next to Ethan and plays with the red bull can. He keeps an eye on the veins in Mark’s hands and how they pop in a way that makes Ethan wish he was a nurse taking blood right now.

“Faggot.”  
Mark retorts, making Ethan stiffen. Reminding him why he shouldn’t be friends with straight guys. Ethan lays his head on the open laptop in front of him, tries not to picture his body, and presses the x key repeatedly. 

*  
Ethan stares in the mirror at his frame just in a grey shirt. It fits perfectly, it’s not too loose or too tight, but he feels like he’s suffocating. He hates the way his hips aren’t curved, or the way his arms are too lanky. He hears Mark sneeze in the other room, thanking the lord he isn’t in a dorm with the other. Apartments are a lifesaver.

His MacBook has an Amazon screen open, a light pink wig is shown on the screen. Ethan bites his nails, ripping off hangnails and sucking on blood. He thinks, he thinks, and thinks, then presses ‘order’ before Mark slams open the door. “Do you wanna go get snow cones?”

*  
He’s crouched on the ground, making grabby hands towards the last box of bright red dye in the back of the shelf. Mark goes on about a non-important topic. Ethan struggles, but finally grabs the box. He stands, handing the box to Mark, who smiles happily. Not noticing Ethan spacing out and staring at a pair of clippers on the shelf next to them.

“Will you help me redye it?”  
Ethan blinks and looks at Mark, faded red hair and grey hoodie paired with black shorts. He pushes his bottom lip out, making Ethan punch him in the shoulder. 

He doesn’t stop thinking about how the soft buzz against his head would feel.

*

Watching guys run was kind of interesting if you like dudes romantically and sexually. Ethan didn’t know why, but this time when Mark asked him if he wanted to watch his track meet, he agreed. The fact that he doesn’t have any other friends could be it.   
The bleachers burnt Ethan’s thighs, hating the way the shorts made his legs look, it was that or no hoodie. Sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose, watching the way Mark ran.

Mark teased him in the car when he came out in his usual black hoodie.  
“You’re going to fucking pass out from heat exhaustion.”

Ethan ignored him, taking two Advil's, and pulling the sunglasses over his eyes.

Anyways, Mark ran up the bleachers to Ethan. Sweaty with red dye pooling down his forehead.

“You have something on your head, Mark.”

“Shut the fuck up,”  
Mark chuckled, squirting water into his mouth, huffing out breaths. He looked down at Ethan, “Come on, meet my friends.”

People like Mark don’t understand people like Ethan, people who can survive in pure quiet. People like Mark feel like they need to fill the room with social activity at all times, like when fish have to swim to live. He likes to tug Ethan along with his friends, but there’s something about Ethan that only Mark can understand. Somehow Mark genuinely enjoys the other as a friend and doesn’t get annoyed with his weirdness, per say.

Ethan usually doesn’t speak to the friends Mark brings to him anyways, but he spaces out anyways. Thinking about the wig.

“This dude? He is my guy!”  
Mark does this thing where he over emphasizes Ethan’s ‘worth’, Mark slaps him too hard on the back and calls him an over zealous term. Ethan knows he does it because he wants Ethan to feel like he fits in, but the masculine terms make him cringe so much he notices.   
And it throws him off so much that it feels like his whole being is melting into the hot ground.

He thinks about the wig more.

*

The world feels claustrophobic when Ethan runs to his room with a package, thanking God that he got off work early today. He threw the package on his bed as he shed his work uniform, acquiring his black hoodie.   
It’s beautiful, long locks swish between his fingers as he pulls it out. A cotton candy color that he wishes his hair could be, his blue hair making him feel more and more out of place each day. He pulls it on, trying his best to make it look natural without a hair cap.

He stares in the mirror and realizes that he feels less uncomfortable in his skin. Like, he’s completed, loving the way of looking like a girl. The feeling of the hair below his breast, wondering if a skirt would make him feel the same way-

This scares Ethan so much that he rips the wig off, forcing himself under a too hot shower head.

*

Mark comes home later that night and goes immediately on the shared balcony, which signals to Ethan that the other probably had a shitty day at work. This signal also means he’s going out there to smoke weed, and Ethan is invited if he wants to go. “Yo.”

“Sup’.”  
He watches Mark lick the rolling paper and prepare a lighter, Ethan sits down next to him in a lawn chair that has uneven legs. Mark blows smoke into the air, handing the other the joint.

Ethan feels soft and heavy at the same time, loving the way his lungs feel a burn. He watches Mark stare at the sky, wide eyed and loving. It’s oddly beautiful in a way. Ethan curls into the void of the hoodie as Mark sprawls against the chair, letting out puffs of smoke. “Do you ever,-”

He cuts himself off, Ethan watches Mark wave his hands around. Trying to figure out a way to put his words together.

“Do you ever feel like,- like, painful in your body?”  
Mark spits it out, staring at the sky still as he taps his fingers, Ethan has never heard a sentence that he related to more.

“Like,- like, it’s so hard to exist in your body, right? I probably sound crazy but,-”  
Mark chuckles, taking a hit from the joint. “Sometimes I really wish I was a girl, y’know? Like, the whole nine yards, too. Shaved legs, tits, long hair. Everything.”

Ethan stares at him, and tomorrow he’ll probably blame it on the weed, but whatever Mark is saying is hitting him too hard. 

“Sometimes it feels like it’s suffocating to be in this body?”  
Mark looks at Ethan, and nods slowly.

For some reason, he can tell they are both scared. They have a realization that both of them are scared of, unknowing the end. Or the reason.   
Mark’s face is one of a small child who knows he is in trouble, and that’s what scares Ethan even more. If Mark is scared, then the world should be scared. 

Ethan feels like he’s going to throw up, but he doesn’t. He goes to the bathroom and stares at himself.  
He, him, himself, fuck, shit.

Ethan grabs the clippers, turning the buzz on. He, him, himself, fuck, shit.  
Before he knows it, there is blue in the sink.

*  
Transgender.

Transwoman.

Transfeminine.

Transfemme.

Ethan stares at the words. He stares, and stares, and stares. He needs to take as much Advil as he humanly can. Mark is asleep in his room, Ethan is staring at his Macbook in the wig.

He realizes that these words apply to him.

*

“Ethan, what’s with the,.. Wig?”  
He furrowed his eyebrows, sitting up, and looking at Mark. 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry. I can explain,-”  
Ethan puts his hands on his eyes, wishing that he could push his fingers in just enough to puncture his brain and kill him.  
He starts to cry.

Mark watches, watches, and he hugs Ethan.

“Mar- Mark, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  
Ethan sobs, gross and snotty into Mark’s shoulder, who just squeezed tighter. Whispering sweet words of “it’s okay, Eth.”

“Mark, I think I’m a girl.”

“I think I am too.”

*

They sat on the living room floor, watching the tv play reruns of The Simpsons. Mark runs his hand through the pink wig as Ethan lays his head on the others shoulder.

“I saw your hair in the sink.”  
Mark braids the strands, not perfect, but it’s still obviously a braid. He gives up, laying his hand in Ethan’s. “I want a wig too. Maybe blonde.”

Ethan giggles, looking up at Mark. Sometimes, Mark can be funny.

“Can you call me she?”  
Ethan asks, her eyes wide. She’s nervous, biting her lip and picking out skin on her nails. Mark smiles, nodding.

“Can you call me she?”  
Ethan looks up at her, Mark smiles. Mark’s smile drops as she looks between Ethan’s eyes and lips, “Can I,- can I kiss you?”

Ethan nods.

*

“God, you’re going to fuckin’ fill the dvr with your gay ass basketball games. Jesus Christ, Mark.”  
Ethan laughs, Mark slides in with two bowls of ramen. Furrowing her eyebrows. Mark and Ethan are both dressed in hoodies and boxers. Wigs put away for a day when they need it.

“Fuck off, dude. You’re just like, jealous.”  
Her mouth is full, and Ethan just rolls her. Grabbing a bowl from her hand. 

They both huddle up together as they talk over a basketball game, as usual. Ethan takes two Advil's for her headache, and Mark kisses her girlfriend's shaved head.

“My beautiful girl.”  
Ethan feels less scared than she used to, so she sheds the black hoodie and wears blue sweater.

They sit, and smile.

**Author's Note:**

> being trans is hard. this is for my transmascs, femmes, and enbies. ily guys
> 
> send requests at my tumblr !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 @scifitwee


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